


30th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [30]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Klaus (2019), My Time At Portia (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, Cock & Ball Torture, Crying, Glory Hole, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Massive Insertion, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Prostate Massage, Small Penis, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.2 McCree/Hanzo | ch.3 Klaus/Jesper | ch.4 Bruce/Jason | ch.5 Gust/Builder | ch.6 Rose/Oleana | ch.7 Raihan/Piers | ch.8 Akande/Lúcio | ch.9 Sigma/Harold | ch.10 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.11 Angelo/Hanzo | ch.12 Piers/Goodra | ch.13 Bruce/Jason
Relationships: Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia), Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Hanzo Shimada, Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Dr. Harold Winston/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jesper Johanssen/Klaus, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers, Olive | Oleana/Rose | Chairman Rose, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Fic Batches [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 13
Kudos: 268





	1. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper76 – overstimulation; massive insertion; crying; not quite love confession but kind of implied – Jack goes to get what Gabriel has promised.
> 
> Prequel: B29F8  
> Sequel: B31F10

Gabriel is not surprised – not one single last bit – when the old man appears eager as a puppy in front of his doors. He looks like he’s barely managed to do his chores for the day without his cock bursting the seams of his pants.

What Gabriel _is_ surprised about is how enthusiastic Jack gets when he slams him against a wall and pulls the front of his sweats away to show him his harness digging into the meat of his fat ass; showing off the base of his massive cock waiting to be sunk into the old man and give it to him like he deserves.

He had thought there would be a lot more hemming and hawing; a lot more of Jack’s bruised ego and him whining about how he’d been fantasizing about deep dicking Gabriel since first watching him get off in on that bench pushing weights.

What he gets is Jack curling his hand around Gabriel’s cock just to feel it. To have its heft in his palm and see how much he is unable to touch his thumb and middle finger around it. How firm it feels and yet malleable; nice and fat and jiggly like its master.

His face does a weird little contortion before it settles on slack ecstasy.

It’s so… easy to grab the front of his shirt and haul him away from the door; push him where he wants him to and not have a peep of protest from Jack when he gets thrown on the bed and made to kneel like a dog for its mating.

“You’re full of surprises, Jackie,” Gabriel croons behind him. He doesn’t have the time to properly undress him. He just rips his pants down and kneads the meager, pale cheeks of his ass. Staring at Jack, Gabriel starts to understand why he is so stupidly into him.

Opposites really do attract.

“You want it, perv?” Gabriel croons, flirting with two slick fingers around Jack’s small pink hole; it’s cute and tight and he wonders when’s the last time the old man has really gotten railed good. He wriggles the tip of one finger inside, and Jack starts singing like a pretty bird.

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Gabriel smirks. It sounds like he’d say anything right now just to please him. Just so Gabriel would give him his fat cock and make his insides rearrange into its shape.

They’ve known each other for so long… so many years… if only Gabriel had known earlier how easy Jack was for Gabriel’s cock. He’d thought there’d be a lot more bruised ego to smash through, but the truth is that Gabriel is wiggling a finger deep in Jack Morrison’s ass and Jack is whining for it like a whore.

“If only I had known, Jackie… All those years… seeing you drool after me and being a little fucking pervert… and all I’d have to do is show you my cock and you’d go belly up for me. Or ass up. Heh.”

Jack does not answer. Gabriel can see the immediate flush crawling up from his shirt and making the back of his neck and ears red as a lobster. It’s kind of cute, really. Making the old man embarrassed for how goddamn much he’s gagging for Gabriel as a whole.

Nevermind that they’re the same age.

Gabriel wants to be a lot faster and meaner about the whole preparation process, but the truth is that Jack is virgin tight and clinging to his fingers like wet silk, and he does not want to hurt him. He wants to fuck him into the mattress until he howls, yes, but he does not want to _hurt_ him.

He’s never wanted to hurt him.

By the time Jack finally is able to easily take four fingers up to Gabriel’s thick knuckles, his hole looks a lot less small and pink and cute and a lot more swollen and brick red and ruined.

Jack has started to sweat up a storm what with him still mostly being in clothes, and Gabriel is not quite sure if he’s even fully with him anymore when he puts the spongy tip of his fat cock up to that sweet hole.

Jack’s face is brick red and he looks completely out of it.

Gabriel would bet money that he’s never really gotten taken care of like this before. The old man never got the hang of simply _treating_ himself to a nice romp in the sheets. He looks like someone that would roll over his partner and fuck like a rabbit and be done with it as quickly as he’s started.

Jack looks like he fucks like he’s on the run, and perving after Gabriel has been the only self-indulgent thing he’s ever done in his miserable life.

“Perv,” Gabriel says softly, but almost lovingly. He had planned to fuck Jack like a bitch but he’s actually giving it to him slow and careful; letting his body adjust to the massive, rubbery cock sliding into its guts and forcing his intestines to shape themselves after it.

But this is not… hm. Gabriel frowns, lips pressed together as he slowly pulls back, cock popping out of Jack’s ruined hole with a wet, nasty sound. Jack makes a vague noise of protest. He sounds drunk. He does not fight it when Gabriel starts to make him turn around; or begins to undress him until he’s stretched out in all his sickly pale, scarred glory.

The only color on Jack seems to be the angry red of his painfully hard dick and the rosy flush around his shoulders and face.

His bright eyes stare up at Gabriel, face contorting weirdly when Gabriel lifts his legs and hooks them around his elbows to easily slide back into him. He throws an arm around his face so he won’t be quite so exposed.

Maybe this embarrasses him after all; getting fucked on his back, legs in the air. Having Gabriel massive and gorgeous between them, dicking him like a stud while Jack himself looks like the sad old pervert that Gabriel is always accusing him as.

He feels so good like this… the base of Gabriel’s dick keeps pressing against his cock, and with every thrust stars explode in front of his eyes and the heat inside his body seems to climb until he feels like he is filled with hot magma.

The rim of Jack’s hole looks stretched and swollen and so very wet; clinging to the meaty shaft of his dick for dear life; allowing him inside the old man’s body until he looks bloated.

Jack’s mouth is wide open and gasping beneath the arm he’s flung over his eyes. Gabriel leans over him, firm belly dragging against his balls and the painfully hard jut of his cock, and Jack sobs. Jack Hardass Morrison _sobs_ , and pulls his arm away from his face which he’s pulled into a grimace.

His cheeks are wet with tears of overstimulation, teeth digging into his bottom lip, trying to not outright bawl like a little kid as he gets spread _so wide_ on Gabriel’s cock that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Gabriel stares at him in stunned silence, the magma heat filling his body focusing in his belly hot and prickling. He pauses, cock lodged deep in Jack’s guts as he leans down over him and listens to him sob once more; almost wailing as he’s been put through his paces and doesn’t know where to push all that nervous, fucked-out energy that’s been sparking along his nerves.

Gabriel gently cups his cheek, lightly brushing away his tears.

“No need to cry, perv,” he says softly. “You’re fine, alright?”

Jack nods, eyes so very, very bright, and Gabriel can’t help but kiss him.


	2. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – subdrop; domdrop; frenemies; undernegotiated kink; ruined orgasm; orgasm denial – Hanzo has been... too harsh?
> 
> Prequel: B29F14  
> Sequel: B31F9

“Harder,” Hanzo croaks. “Faster!”

Hanzo curls the leash once more around his fist, making the pull meaner and tighter and even less bearable for McCree. He takes it wordlessly, baring his teeth at Hanzo.

He looks feral and frustrated but follows Hanzo’s orders to the T; he plants his feet on the bed, whining through his teeth when he keeps sliding on the slippery sheets, and goes nearly cross-eyed with frustration trying to bounce Hanzo on his hips when Hanzo flat-out refuses to help any step of the way, making him bear his full weight.

Hanzo smirks at him whenever he doesn’t have to work to keep the delighted shudders rolling through his body hidden. McCree’s cock is fat and substantial in his belly, and having Jesse bounce him and grind the thick shaft into his prostate is sinfully delicious.

McCree is fucking him like a man possessed, just like Hanzo likes it; his huge paws are on his hips, holding on for dear life but not helping him out in bouncing Hanzo on his dick just like the good boy he can be.

“You can follow orders so well when you got the needed incentive,” Hanzo purrs at him and gives another sharp tug on the leash just because he can. McCree gnashes his teeth, head falling back, showing off his collared throat as he bucks his hips again.

He’s sweating like a beast; Hanzo has never seen him like this… actually working for something for once and putting his all in it. His muscles are deliciously jiggling, broad chest heaving as he tries to grunt fuck Hanzo into finally coming.

Hanzo smirks slowly. He can see the rising frustration in his little toy.

“You’re working so hard,” he croons, his cock bouncing in front of him, a slow and steady drip of pre drooling onto McCree’s hairy belly. He pretends like it isn’t painfully obvious just how deeply he is into this. Having a strong man such as McCree beneath him, working away at pleasuring Hanzo; letting him push and pull and pinch and be mean and taking it all in the patient stride that Hanzo has come to associate with the man.

McCree lets everything just slide off of him. Hanzo’s constant little needling; the way he meanly squeezes his knees around his ribs to make breathing more difficult… Hanzo generally being unpleasant to him – McCree just takes it all and then some.

Hanzo is addicted to it. The thought of almost having lost that to some nameless nobody is absolutely inconceivable. McCree is a perfectly trained mutt, just ready to serve and be a good boy, and Hanzo intends to explore just how far he can push him.

He should have taken a riding crop along as well just so he would be able to give McCree some love taps whenever he started faltering, but for now it would do.

When Hanzo comes, he does so on a slow, easy sigh, orgasm washing through him in delicious waves that start at the very tips of his toes and rush through his body warm and soft.

He clenches down tight on McCree’s girthy cock, a small grin on his face when he hears his breath hitch beneath him, undoubtedly enjoying the tight, silky clench of Hanzo’s hot insides. He gently loosens the tight pull of the leash, intending to magnanimously letting McCree come inside him, and maybe making him lap the mess up afterwards – when the warm, firm body beneath him suddenly moves and lightly rolls them around, depositing a confused and uncoordinated Hanzo on the bed.

His limbs are sluggish, orgasm still not quite through his system, and he has to fight to untangle himself from the sheets to see what the hell McCree is doing.

Hanzo watches in mute confusion as McCree stands next to the bed, jeans already up and carefully closing them over his still hard, still _wet_ dick.

McCree is wearing the collar, leash dangling between his furry pectorals, yet as Hanzo looks, he reaches up and carefully opens it, then puts it on the bedside table.

Hanzo finally jerks back into action, but his tongue is slow and sluggish after his orgasm, his body protesting against the sudden adrenaline skittering down his spine and spreading through his limbs.

“What’re you doin’?” he slurs, working to get up on his knees. He’s so… confused. Jesse hadn’t come yet…? Why was he not… why did he…?

“Goin’,” Jesse replies, his face curiously blank. He’s pulled on his shirt but has not buttoned it yet. He looks around, body swivelling as he searches for something, and Hanzo can see how wide his pupils are blown; he’s looking like he’s dropping hard, and Hanzo should absolutely not let him go like this, but he is too perplexed about all of this to do anything.

Whatever Jesse had been looking for he seems to decide that it is not worth it. He slips into his sneakers and makes his way to the door.

“Why’re you…” Hanzo calls because those are the only words still flying around his head. McCree drunkenly paws at the wall, trying to hit the button for the door. They’ve not had a drop of alcohol but a drop can do that to a person.

“Jus’ gettin’ out of your hair,” he mumbles, and then he is gone, leaving Hanzo kneeling on the bed, staring at the door, wondering what the _Hell_ just happened.

His head is pounding something fierce. He slowly sits down on his heels, trying to understand… His body is getting colder by the second, the orgasm finally through and taking the fog of lust with it.

After just a few minutes of staring at the door, Hanzo moves to get his hands on his phone, but McCree doesn’t answer any of the texts. He tries calling him, even though that makes him cringe, yet still no answer.

Hanzo has no idea what just happened.

 _Jus’ gettin’ out of your hair_. What did that even mean? Had he been misinterpreting the situation all along?

McCree has been hard and willing… he’s come into Hanzo’s room on his own will, playing along right until the end.

Hanzo is up from the bed, walking a few steps towards the door, realizes that he is buck ass naked and turns to walk a few steps towards the bathroom, then just stands there and stares.

He realizes that he might be having a panic attack but doesn’t know what to do about it. Why did McCree go? Has he not been enjoying their trysts after all? Has Hanzo been… too… harsh?

McCree is such a sturdy submissive, he’s never paused to wonder about whether he might not be up for the kind of rough play they’ve been doing.

They’re just fuck buddies. McCree is just… McCree. Stupid, lazy American.

Hanzo is staring at McCree’s hat lying half beneath the bed; for some reason the idiot had had it on when coming over.

The idiot.

The… idiot.


	3. Klaus/Jesper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus/Jesper – BJ; small dick appreciation; bit of dirty talk – Jesper finds out one of Klaus’ kinks.

“AAahhh… that’s the ticket… That’s what I’ve been talking about, Klaus. Mmmhhh perfect.”

Klaus appears in the doorway of the kitchen briefly, glancing in on Jesper wiggling himself into the perfect position on Klaus’ huge old armchair, sticking his naked feet towards the fire burning in front of him.

He lightly shakes his head, fondly exasperated, though it is true: Jesper has been talking about this exact moment since they stepped foot out of the cabin that very morning to discover fresh heaps of snow.

He has hardly been talking about anything else while Klaus just stoically worked at his side, listening to his ranting and raving about the inevitable moods of mother nature. It’s just who Jesper is, he supposes; he always just needs to run his mouth, silence is something that his young companion can only shoulder with difficulty.

As he works to make their warm cocoas, he thinks that he has definitely come to appreciate Jesper’s talkative nature. It is a nice change of pace.

Klaus flushes a bit.

.o.

“Oh yeah… I feel like a dang king,” Jesper sighs as he slides his little ass a bit closer to the edge of the seat, cock hard and straining towards Klaus’ flushed face.

He watches him study his dick even as he reaches to the side for the hot cocoa, to sip from it. Klaus, ever the good boy, kneels there waiting for his order, face flushed and eager.

Jesper reaches down, grasping the base of his cock with just two fingers and wagging it in front of Klaus’ face just to watch his dark, gentle eyes follow it like a cat. He’s surprisingly cute for a dude of his stature and age.

“Open up,” he orders finally, gently setting his mug down on the side table. He really does feel like a king; lounging on the huge armchair with all its silky, comfy furs… having his pet between his thighs, just waiting to pleasure him… It’s all that he deserves, if he is being honest.

Klaus opens up obediently, showing off the red cushion of his tongue, eyes flicking up to Jesper’s flushed face just as he’s learned to do. He might be an old dog but he is very eager and willing to learn, even if most things make him squirm and be embarrassed.

Jesper sighs again, stretching his legs that he has hooked over Klaus’ shoulders, feeling the warmth of the fire on his toes as he gently lets the tip of his cock slap against Klaus’ tongue until his big pet goes cross eyed and he looks a bit on the verge of crying.

“There, there… no need to get all whiny,” he soothes, stretching himself out and crossing his arms behind his back. “Get to it, then. If you love it so, so much.”

He closes his eyes on a little sigh, feeling how easily Klaus engulfs his cock in the warm, silky cavern of his mouth. There’s not many things that are better, really. Klaus is a big guy so of course he’d be able to suck him down in one fell swoop, and the feeling of his balls nestled warm and snug in the soft embrace of Klaus’ beard is just as surprisingly good as the feeling of his slippery tongue gently moving against Jesper’s hot shaft.

He hears and feels him pull back with a little slurp that zings right up his spine. Thick fingers carefully grasp the base of his cock not unlike he had done earlier, before Klaus begins to focus on the wet glans; pushing his lips across them, then popping off again and again; lips nice and tight just how Jesper taught him how to do.

Jesper’s toes curl and his face becomes a bit tense as his smug superiority melts away in favor of him reaching down and curling his fingers tightly into the furs he his lounging on.

“Shit…” he whispers with feeling, back arching and hips trying to curl up. Klaus gently splays a huge hand across his abdomen, keeping him gently pressed down.

Jesper opens one eye, glancing down his quivering soft belly to the sight of Klaus’ flushed face hovering above his cock, staring at the bright red nose of his dick like he’s never seen anything like it, thumb idly travelling along the thick vein on the underside.

The _look_ on his face is something that goes through Jesper like a hot knife through butter. He swallows hard and licks his lips.

“What are you thinking about, pet?” he rasps, a cocky little grin tipping the corner of his mouth. “You love my cock, don’t you? You been thinking about it cutting wood? Wanted to be playing with it the whole day, didn’t you?”

He makes himself stop clutching at the furs with one hand to reach down and cup Klaus’ cheek, but before he can get there, Klaus speaks; deep voice rumbling through him and making his balls feel strangely sensitive and overly full.

“It’s so cute…”

He pauses and blinks, heat swamping his body as he rasps: “Huh?”

His body, the idiot, revs up like the old engine of the god forsaken ship that had brought him here.

“It’s so small… so filigrane,” Klaus says softly. He gently squeezes the tip of his cock between two thick fingers and tugs down carefully.Jesper’s foreskin rolls down like a dream, exposing all of his bright red, sensitive glans to the room.

Jesper’s mouth is dry, words eluding him for one moment in which Klaus leans in again and presses a gentle kiss against the sticky tip. When he pulls back, his lips are shiny with it. There’s a ringing in Jesper’s ears as he keeps replaying Klaus’ deep rumble in his head.

_It’s so small…_

“I love it,” Klaus says softly, his cheeks a bright cherry red. “I love how cute it is… how perfect…”

_Cute… Cute!_

Jesper exhales sharply and reaches down, fingers sliding into Klaus’ hair, weaving into the silky strands.

“Y’ know that’s not exactly something a guy wants to hear,” he says in almost a whisper. He wanted to sound a lot more angry, but he struggles to find any breath left in his lungs.

He gently takes a hold of Klaus’ hair and pushes him down. Klaus goes without any sign of protest, opening up like a good boy and letting Jesper guide him just the way he wants to.

Jesper’s cheeks pound in time with his racing heart. He watches how easily Klaus sucks him down; feeling how he just about nudges at the back of his throat even though Klaus’ big nose is buried against his soft abdomen, and he kind of… gets off on that, too.

He’s never been in a habit of thinking of himself as _small_ , so realizing that Klaus might have been _very_ aware of their size differences and actively getting off on them is kind of like a revelation.

A very, very hot revelation. He wonders just how deeply Klaus’ appreciation for his smaller body goes. How fast can he make the big softy come if he plays it up a little bit?

Oh… those are some interesting thoughts.Thoughts he will have to dwell on when he has two brain cells to rub together and isn’t trying his hardest to get his big pet to choke on his (big, gorgeous) dick.

Klaus takes it all in stride, eyes glassy and all lovey-dovey as he stares up at Jesper.

It’s impossible to be mad at him.


	4. Jason/Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne – Rapey (but kind of with consent?); fighting to not quite fucking; ABO; Omega!Jason; Alpha!Bruce; virgin!Jason; triggered rut; violence – Bruce hates dealing with Jason but Jason is so slow tonight there is no way he can pretend to just let him go... what is up with him?
> 
> Sequel: B31F11

There’s barely a muted pop to be heard, and the Alpha that had tried to force himself on the young woman goes limp in Bruce’s hands. As he still stares and tries to comprehend, his HUD is already making calculations as to where the sound came from, doing sound measurements and figuring out the angle of the shot wound from the Alpha’s temple.

Bruce opens his fingers and lets the corpse slump to the ground. The lady has long since vanished, spooked like a horse and freaked out of her mind, and he follows the lead of his HUD without thought, brain still stuck on the sudden, unlikely death of the Alpha.

_Possible perpetrator: Red Hood_

He stares at the bold declaration and his heart sinks. Still, he shoots his grappling hook and follows up onto the rooftop. There is no way he will catch Jason, but… it is his duty. He should have known that the kid wouldn’t be far when there was a young Omega to avenge. He should have done a rudimentary scan of the surroundings, but the sharp, acrid stench of fear had penetrated even the filters of his mask.

There hadn’t been enough time. Just as there hadn’t been enough time when Jason…

There’s a flicker of a jacket and the brief shine of the blood red hood just a few rooftops ahead. Bruce almost falters in his steps, but doubles his efforts instead.

Something was wrong. Jason should have been just _gone_ by now (...yeah… yeah he should be… gone…) but there he was, sluggishly running and weaving his way as if drunk.

As Bruce watches, the kid comes to a halt next to the small booth of a rooftop staircase, bracing himself on it with one arm, hunched over. As he advances, eyes on his target while his HUD searches the surroundings for traps, Jason reaches up and wrenches his red mask off of his head. Strawberry blond. He’s stopped dying his hair.

Bruce’s body is moving even as his mind tries to crack this nut, and he is there in seconds, grabbing the back of Jason’s short jacket and jerking him around. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes glassy, but he reacts on pure instinct nonetheless, grabbing Bruce’s arm and throwing him in one smooth motion.

The throw is… nothing special. Bruce lands on his feet and twists around, arms lifted, waiting for more to come, but Jason is doubled over, arm pressed against his stomach. Bruce falters again. He hates dealing with Jason. He hates dealing with his insecurities; the incessant doubts that cripple him whenever he interacts with the young man.

Jason’s mouth is open, drool dripping to the floor. He seems close to collapsing to the ground, but before Bruce can ask, he is suddenly catapulting himself forward and digging his shoulder into Bruce’s stomach.

They both go down like a sack of bricks.

Bruce grabs him in turn, and they begin a tussle full of knees and fists and low grunts. Jason is radiating heat like a furnace, his motions slow and heavy, and when Bruce pins him to the ground he just keeps lying there, pupils dilating and contracting worryingly.

“What is this?!” he grunts. He pushes Jason around onto his front and starts to search through his person. “Are you on drugs?!”

“Fuck _off_ ,” Jason groans. He moves sluggishly, trying to push Bruce off, but only managing to awkwardly kneel on all fours. He makes a reedy little sound like a whine, and Bruce freezes and slowly takes his hands off of him. Just like with the acrid stench of fear before, scent slowly starts to permeate through his filters.

He sits back with an oof, shaking hand lifting to push his mask up because… he just has to make sure. He is sure this isn’t possible but…

Jason’s thick, sickly sweet stench hits him like a hammer right in his diaphragm. He reels, trying not to inhale too much, but he’s been done in even before taking off his mask.

Jason makes the reedy sound again. It ends on a sob that sounds… utterly heartbroken. He lowers his upper body to the floor while he swears up a storm, voice rough and out of it.

“Fuck… fuck… _fuck_!”

He’s presenting.

The cool rooftop air ruffles Bruce’s hair and alerts him to the sweat on his neck. He can see how dark Jason’s pants have become.

“What the… why are you out here in your heat?” he asks gruffly. He scruffs Jason and shakes him like a wet cat. Jason tries to elbow him in the guts but can’t do shit when his abdomen is rioting and he just wants to be fucked and filled and feel nice and safe.

“Someone’s gotta take care of stupid _fucking_ Alphas thinking they can…” he has to breathe through what Bruce assumes is a wave of pain, “...they can just get their dirty paws on a l-lady…”

He quiets down. Bruce is pressed across his back, hips slotted against Jason’s ass.

He wants to admonish him; that he can’t go around putting bullets in Alphas’ heads because he feels like it, but what he does his reach around him while scruffing him and fumbling with his belt.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason whines, voice small and pained.

“I’m helping you,” he answers gruffly. His head is swimming. He never has trouble controlling himself with Omegas; even heating ones; but Jason smells sweet and… untouched.

Jason garbles something but it is unintelligible. It could have been something like ‘Don’t think this changes a damn thing’, but he is not sure.

The young man is drawn tight as a bow when he gets his pants down. He is also trembling; like a plucked string on a guitar.

Bruce palms his ass, and Jason starts clawing at the ground as if wanting to pull himself away. His trembling becomes harder, his breath coming in wheezing little bursts.

Dark spots dance in front of Bruce’s eyes. He is aware, dimly, that his rut has been triggered. Without his mask on, the system does not recognize the signs and doesn’t administer emergency treatment. His fingers find Jason’s hole, but he can’t feel a thing through the thick gloves, so he pulls them off impatiently with his teeth.

Jason weakly bucks but the scruff does its part to make him drool onto the concrete rooftop and have the fight drain out of him.

His hole is tender and buttery soft. His muscles are nervously clenching on Bruce’s thick, intruding fingers. Jason whines reedy and soft.

“I hate you,” he sobs and Bruce presses his lips together. He knows. He pushes two fingers in and fucks him carefully on them. Just enough to get him off. To get him functioning enough to scurry off into whatever little hidey-hole he’s got and lick his wounds in the peace and quiet of his nest.

He smells so soft and clean. His insides are squeezing down on him fluttery every now and then as if to test out the intrusion.

Testing out what it is like to be filled.

Static fills Bruce’s ears. He lightly squeezes the back of Jason’s neck.

“Ever done this before?” he grunts.

Jason slams one fist against the ground, his answer trembling and soft but uttered with feeling: “I’m going to _kill_ you, Batman…” before gently arching his back down and lifting his hips further up for the deep, careful fingering.


	5. Gust/Builder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder – ace nb Builder; cbt; prostate massage; figuring kinks out – Builder makes Gust play with them in A&G construction.
> 
> Prequel: B29F3  
> Sequel: B31F13

The door is locked twice and Builder has even placed one of their chairs beneath the doorknob, but Gust still looks spooked like a young colt, standing there and wringing his hands. For him, being found out by any of the city’s residents and potentially made a laughing stock is… the most horrible thing he can imagine.  


Builder watches him critically as they walk over to check the first window being covered, then towards him at his workstation where the second window is; everything placed perfectly to catch those first inspiring rays of sunlight.

Gust stands to the side, wringing his hands, looking miserable and nervous and excited. The tips of his ears poking just-so out of his long hair are flushed red, his eyes are glassy.

Builder stands there, leaning against his drawing desk with their butt and cross their arms in front of their chest, waiting for him to come to a decision.

They remember well those first few days and weeks in Portia, and how difficult it had been to get Gust to warm up a little and stop his snooty, too-cool-for-you attitude. They would have never thought that beneath it is just a vulnerable little boy that desperately wants to be told what to do.

Builder looks him slowly up and down. Him, in his perfect designer clothes; with his hair in a pretty braid that looks almost elvish. They stuff their hand into their pocket and root around until they grasp the hairband they had taken with them. They extend their arm, the band dangling from their finger.

“If you want to play, put your hair back. I don’t want you to hide yourself anymore.”

Gust glances at the hairband, then at the Builder and back again. Slowly he nods as if to talk himself into it, and grasps the hairband with slightly shaking fingers.

.o.

Gust is flushed all over. It looks really cute.

“You’ve never been naked in here before, have you?” Builder asks in amusement as they put Gust’s perfectly folded clothes on the big desk on the other side of the room just to take that little bit of agency away from him as well. If Gust even notices, he does not react at all.

He has his hair pulled back in a ponytail; the sight is very unusual, but the Builder really kind of likes it. It makes Gust look sweet like a schoolgirl.

Gust is shaking his head. He’s leaned forward, bracing himself on the seat of his chair. The chair he’ll be sitting on just a few hours from now, trying to draw some blueprints while he can barely make himself not squirm from the ache in his balls and the memories coursing through his head.

The Builder gently places their hand on his back, slowly brushing up and then down again. Gust is stiff at first but the longer they keep the slow, repetitive motion up, the more he relaxes and starts breathing again.

“You know…” they start slowly, gently grasping one little ass cheek and pulling it to the side to look at his small hole. It’s cute and pink and there are freckles up and down his ass crack. “I heard that it’s very good for the health to get a prostate massage every now and then.”

Gust makes a soft wheezing sound and shuffles his feet a little farther apart like the good boy that he is.

“Okay,” he says softly, not even putting up a semblance of a fight. He’s embarrassed but he remembers how good it had been to kneel on the Builder’s floor and let them kick him in the balls, and it shows. He is as pliant as they come, only squeaking softly when they slide a lube wet finger into his cute rosebud.

Gust makes a sound like a hurt animal. He’s clenched up tight, trembling around the lone little finger, and the Builder rubs his back soothingly.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll like it, I’m sure,” they assure him. He ducks his head, but his hair can’t slip forward and hide his face like he wants it to. It’s fascinating to see his face while fingering him; his mouth is open, lips wet. Eyes clenched shut as tight as they go.

They have to gently drag their finger along his insides, looking for the right spot. They’ve looked at pictures in books and it hadn’t looked too difficult, but actually having a finger in someone’s ass is an entirely different thing.

It’s interesting, though. All warm and slick and silky. It becomes even more interesting when they finally find the plump little gland and Gust makes a sound like he’s choking, hips hunching down and away from the Builder’s finger in reflex.

“Shush… it’ll be good, believe me.” They gently slide back inside. They have to search around again but find it a lot quicker this time.

Gust’s slim thighs are trembling. He looks… pretty good like this. All unsure and needy. It’s awkward to keep fingering him and get into position to pay attention to his balls as well, but he’s definitely worth it.

They are curious, varying the amount of pressure and how they press against his prostate, going after the sounds he makes and the twists of his hips to determine what works best. He’s as patient as they come, just taking it all and whining like a good boy.

“You’re making a mess… wow…” the Builder murmurs when the wet glint on the floor catches their eye. They curl a hand around his balls, palming the vulnerable sac tangling there between his spread thighs while eying how his half-hard cock is drooling out thick strings of pre.

“You’re going to clean that up later, you know,” they tell him gently, and he sobs and presses his hot, sweaty face against his biceps. For a second his knees give slightly in and the Builder’s heart drops, but the moment is over as fast as it came. “Hey now… easy… you’re still good, right?”

Gust nods frantically, and it is then that the Builder decides to catch him off-guard and give him a bit more to focus on: they let go of his balls and give them a nice, meaty smack.

They are prepared this time for the way his hips just dip down as his knees go weak, and they follow him easily, keeping up the pressure against his prostate.

He is sobbing but presenting again within moments.

He starts bouncing like a rabbit with its hind feet caught, dancing from left to right, howling against his arm when his balls get harshly slapped but also not wanting to step away from the good, deep fingering that he’s receiving.

He’s caught between a rock and a hard place and he loves and hates both in equal measures.

The Builder is… absolutely mesmerized. They couldn’t say that they’re turned on, but they’re definitely into feeling how Gust’s hole clenches every time they slap his balls to see them bouncing like a punching sack.

They feel so nice against their palm… soft and yet firm… a nice palm full to just lay into and hurt Gust in a way that he likes. Loves, even… even though it seems to always end with him bawling big fat tears.

It must be cathartic, they think; just being able to let go… feel the pain coursing through oneself and cry like a babe, knowing that the other won’t judge one for it.

“You’re doing so well,” they murmur towards him, unsure if he even hears it over his sobbing. They grasp his balls in their palm and give them a gentle squeeze that gets just a little too tight for comfort, then bend down and kiss his back.

There’s still so much they want to test out with him. And they have so much time to do it.


	6. Rose/Oleana + Tsareena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose/Oleana + Tsareena – tentacle/vine sex; cbt – Oleana does not like doing things at the last moment and Rose has to deal with the consequences.
> 
> (Kind of a sequel to a [redacted :) ] reward... reward posted above the actual fic.)

“Mr. Rose. Spread your legs, if you please.”

Rose is squirming, hands bound by his own belt, pale eyes eying Oleana with a nervous kind of fear that she enjoys immensely, even if she would not show it outwardly.

“Oleana. Dear. Please. I uhm… I won’t do it again.”

“You went against my express counselling of not involving the Champion,” she says calmly, weaving her fingers together slowly in front of her lap.

She looks down on him squirming. He looks good, dishevelled and a bit frightened. Without his perfect suit – or his sloppy, mismatched getup that he thinks will keep others from noticing him – he just looks like a hairy, chubby man she could have picked off the street.

It excites her. She had never been allowed to play with the dirty boys when she’d been younger.

“Well… that is… you know…” he is bumbling, looking desperately for something to say that will curb her wrath. She quietly stares down at him, taking in his face with the perfectly groomed beard and mustache, then down over his plump, hairy chest and jiggling belly.

His cock is nice and girthy. Juicy. It’s a bit more on the fat side with a blunt mushroom tip, but not necessarily short. A nice big cock that looks ruddy and excited despite Rose bumbling around and trying to get out of the situation.

“Sir,” she interrupts his babbling. “The sooner you spread your legs, the sooner my punishment for you will be over and done with and you can go to your scheduled dinner with Mr. Giovanni.”

Rose whines. He looks around for anything to help him, but his pokeballs are all lying on his desk which is way too far for him to access right now.

Eventually he does spread his thighs. Oleana quietly watches the jiggle in them. They are nice and juicy just like his cock. She wants to sink her nails into them until Rose squeals like a little piggy.

His balls are heavy and soft looking. For some reason he seems to like to shave them; they look deliciously vulnerable.

Oleana steps closer, and even before she does anything, Rose squeaks and lifts his bound hands in front of his face.

“Please. Oleana. Dear. I don’t… I don’t know what you’re up to, but I swear to you that I will do what you advise to a T from now on.”

She can tell that he will keep babbling if she just lets him; it’s simply how and who Rose is. He likes to hear himself speak without necessarily being full of himself – he is intelligent and charming and used to talking his way out of the shit he’s navigated himself into.

Not this time, though.

Oleana lifts her long, long leg.

Since Rose is hiding his face like a little boy, he does not see the way she angles her foot; showing off the thick plateau sole of her chique shoes and letting the sharp, thin heel hover above his vulnerable package.

He’s not even ashamed about sporting a hard-on in front of her. She wonders what he thought this was going to be when her Salazzle made short work of his clothes.

She does not ram her heel down on his balls, of course; instead she uses a measured pressure. She hasn’t done this before and just goes with what feels good to her.

Hands in her hips, she pushes down until the small, mean tip naturally finds a place between Rose’s fat breeder balls.

His string of very convincing apologies immediately cuts off. He is shocked silent right until she lifts her heel again and carefully uses it to crush one of his nuts.

At this point he begins howling and flopping about like a Magicarp on land. He is swearing to high heavens about how obedient he will be. He is sobbing, almost in tears.

Oleana is not impressed by any of this. She thinks she will have to use her Tsareena to restraint him next time and have unhindered access to his genitalia. Make sure he is really and truly sorry for it as she steps on his balls again and again until she literally squeezes the cum out of them.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. She quite likes this thought.

Rose is sobbing like a baby.

She likes that, too.

.oOo.

“Hm. This won’t do.”

Tsareena’s vines have lifted Rose up to eye level, so Oleana can inspect him like a used car that’s acting up.

He is flushing an endearing dark pink all over, struggling weakly in the Pokémon’s vines but quickly losing all his strength. If he’d done her workout routine like she has told him to months before, he would have had the strength to at least try and wriggle free, but like this he is just a sad chubby man begging for mercy in Tsareena’s tight grip.

The Pokémon is moving in tandem with her mistress, slowly stalking around her prey, her sharp legs mimicking Oleana’s high-heeled boots.

“When was the last time you have managed an erection? You know we don’t have time for this if we want to get the adult toy collection out by this year…”

She reaches out and snips her fingers against the sad half-chub of his cock. Rose makes a high-pitched, breathless sound that probably was supposed to be some kind of cry of pain.

As she watches, his cock slowly fills out a little bit more. Oleana hums in thought.

“I asked you a question,” she says almost absentmindedly, pinching the inside of one chubby thigh with her sharp, mean nails. Rose does another weird little sound and twitch, and stutters: “I… I don’t remember.”

Oleana sighs deep and put-upon. Her wage is pretty good, but not good enough for this.

Tsareena makes a trilling little noise, trying to imitate her mistress. She crosses her little arms in front of her and glares up at Rose dangling in her vines, all while they begin to move around him, slow and silky until she has enough room for the tips to gently spread his soft cheeks.

“O-Oleana! Dear!” Rose suddenly finds his tongue again, voice a bit higher-pitched as he feels his tender little hole exposed to the cool air of the room and Oleana’s unimpressed gaze. “Please, I… I think there is another way!”

“Oh… I think so, too. The very nice people of the adult toy company are waiting for the mold of your… member… and I will not accept begging for an extension of a deadline. I don’t do deadlines, Mr. Rose. I _am_ the deadline.”

She nods to Tsareena, and the Pokémon trills happily as she begins to wriggle the bulbous tip of one tentacle against Rose’s pink hole. Before he can stutter out a protest, it already pops inside him, the slim rest following eagerly. Tsareena makes a very curious sound, lifting one arm to her face.

“She seems to enjoy your warmth,” Oleana tells Rose as he groans deeply, his legs kicking slightly.

“Oh… oh no…” he whispers, but there is no heat whatsoever behind those words. He lets his head hang, his body going slack once more in Tsareena’s vines.

Oleana clicks her tongue and makes a little motion towards the Pokémon who slowly starts to lower her prey closer to the ground. Knee level. Perfect.

“So. What do we do about that pesky little… _little_ … problem?” Oleana murmurs, slowly placing a hand on the small of Rose’s back and leaning on it. He only grunts, completely focused on the wriggling vine in his anus; too pre-occupied to even pay attention to Oleana’s snide little remark.

She frowns and leans down to glance beneath him. His cock is almost fully erect by now, but that doesn’t surprise her; she had suspected for a long time that Rose enjoys getting his ass tickled and filled.

“Listen… Oleana… my dear…” him suddenly talking surprises her and she stands back up straight to look at the back of his head. His shoulders are especially flushed. He’s a cute chubby man that a million housewifes and househusbands thirst after, and she could see herself admiring him as well if she didn’t have to babysit him.

“I… I am… sorry. I will… I will rectify the problem ASAP. I give you my word on- Oh! o-oh there… ah.. I give you my word on it.” His voice is trembling and jumping all over the place as Tsareena titters and wriggles her vine inside him. She has figured out all his buttons within an admirably short amount of time, and Oleana can’t help her very fond little smile towards her.

“Of course you will,” Oleana tells him gently, “...because I will see to it.”

She has slightly pulled her skirt to the side a little to give herself more room to maneuver, and jerks her knee up and right into his balls.

Rose makes a soft ‘oof’ sound as the air is pushed out of his lungs in one fell swoop, his whole body trembling as it tries to curl up within Tsareena’s vines. Tsareena makes sounds as if she’s whooping, agitated and excited as there are _stomps_ involved suddenly.

Oleana doesn’t give him much time to recover before she knees him once more, crushing his tender ballsac against his pelvis bone. She’s behind him, holding onto his hips with both hands now for better leverage, blood starting to pump as she listens to his choked off howl as he struggles to pull enough air into his lungs and understand what is happening to his body.

She lets him rest for a minute; lets him feel the ache bloom through his whole body while her overenthusiastic Pokémon is fucking him ruthlessly on her vines; filling his guts more and more with the wriggling tentacle while she is fully focused on watching her mistress knee him in the balls.

She does it again afterwards; three times in quick succession. She’s able to feel his nuts against her kneecap, getting squished momentarily against his body, and the rush that it gives her is indescribable.

He’s sobbing like a kid within the first few minutes, confused and aching and horribly turned on as she can see when she leans down to peek beneath his body, his cock swinging there erect and dripping.

Just as she had expected.

What a sad old man… Only able to get it up properly when someone crushes his laughable balls.

“You disgust me,” she tells him while she gives Tsareena another sign, and the Pokémon lowers the sobbing, convulsing man to lie on the floor, crushing his own cock between the unforgiving ground and his own chubby belly. “But it is good to know how to keep you in line,” she continues conversationally, lifting her foot and slowly placing her toes against his balls, increasing the pressure at a snail’s pace while Tsareena watches on in unadulterated excitement.

Rose is groaning delirious, the noise becoming louder the more pressure she exerts on him.

“Maybe I should let Tsareena do the honors next time… it’ll save me the effort,” she muses loudly as she puts enough pressure on his throbbing, swollen sac that he actually cries out loud in pain, body jerking, hips lifting up and involuntarily fucking himself on Tsareena’s vines.

Oleana smiles slowly and takes her foot off of him. She walks over to his large desk where she had placed the case for the mold and is walking back to him.

“Now. Lift up so I can take the imprint. If you’re being a good boy I won’t let Tsareena go loose on your ridiculous testicles.”

It takes a few tries. He is crying and snotty but looks absolutely beautiful with his face flushed and twisted in aroused fear. Eventually his chubby ass is in the air and she can delicately push his painfully erect, red hot cock into the slippery inside of the mold.

His testicles brush her wrist and she smirks at how feverishly hot they are as well. They are swollen and almost purple.

“Now,” she says gently. “We’ll hold this for fifteen minutes.”

Rose groans pathetically.

“Y-Yes… Ole… Oleana… dear.”


	7. Raihan/Piers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan/Piers (Pokémon) – gloryhole; taking pics without the other knowing (no blackmail or intended blackmail) – Raihan can make himself inconspicuous. Piers can’t.
> 
> Sequel: B32F9

Raihan doesn’t need to do much to become invisible to the public’s eye; He just needs to put on some different clothes, pull the new non-iconic hoodie up over his head, and _bam_ , no adoring fans running around him asking for pictures… no trainers asking for advice. No Chairman Rose or Oleana suddenly popping up out of the blue with a request.

It’ll be just him sitting in the back of a Corviknight cab on his way to Motostoke after an informant tipped him off.

Piers, now… Piers doesn’t have as easy a time to conceal himself what with his crazy big head of hair, which is why he probably has locked himself into a toilet stall in the back of a Pokémon Café, thinking that he’s nice and safe to do his dirty deeds.

He’s a cutie all around… maybe that’s why nobody ever told him that wisps of spiky black-and-white hair like to curl around his gaunt cheeks and tend to find their way through the hole. Raihan likes to think so, at least.

Piers is a swell dude; a really nice bloke that just got hit hard with the melancholy, and he wouldn’t like to find out that anybody was giving him a hard time about his favorite hobby… namely opening his sweet little mouth wide to get it stuffed with cock.

They all have their vices, after all. Raihan’s is to bring his phone everywhere, for example, and have the cheeky little bugger just do his thing; slipping out of his pocket the second Raihan has closed the stall doors to fly up to his face and snap a few pictures before flying even higher to peek over the partition and have a peek on the other side.

He wonders if Piers doesn’t have is own Rotomphone with him; or whether the Pokémon are in cahoots as they so often are. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.

Raihan would never use candids to blackmail someone, and definitely not Piers. It would spoil the whole fun of the game anyway.

He’s tall enough to curl the fingers of one hand over the partition as he reaches down to gently push two digits through the little hole and brush them against what he can find. He can feel Piers’ cheek, and a movement as if he were rubbing it against the petting fingers like a cat. He’s probably been primed and ready for a while now, just waiting for the next stall to open, and there’s not a single moment of him being startled or unsure.

When he thinks he’s anonymous he is a lot more self-assured, it seems. Raihan wants to laugh and make stupid little jokes while playing because that’s just his _thing_ , but instead he bites his tongue and gently tickles beneath Piers’ chin to urge him closer, which he immediately does, mouth falling open.

His Rotomphone comes skittering down to show him one of the pictures it had taken while he starts to open his pants in a lazy, unhurried motion.

Raihan bites his tongue, blue eyes becoming sharp as shards of glass as he sees the pale thin body on the other side. Piers has taken off all his clothes for some reason, and from above, every single knob of his spine is visible. His hair is spilling like thick, thorny tendrils across it, the longest tip just about reaching the tiny round slope of his ass.

He bites his tongue harder so he won’t make a comment. _God_ , he wants to run his mouth so badly, but Piers would recognize him immediately. Instead he gets his cock out shifts closer, his Rotomphone flying down to catch the moment of him slapping the tip of his dick against Piers’ tongue.

It’s warmer than he thought for some reason; warm and silky and slimy, his mouth greedily suckling on the fat tip until Raihan finally pushes more of it in, eyes fluttering shut.

He wants to tell Piers to make it nice and wet; to slurp like a whore on his dick, but instead he presses his palm over his big damn mouth and just breathes in sharp little bursts through his nose.

Piers takes it like a pro. There’s not even a hint of teeth; just the wet silky slide into him. He can practically feel his Rotomphone vibrating next to his hip with the desire to get a nice close up on the other side, but it knows exactly how loud its hum or distracting its movements would be, so it stays put on Raihan’s side of the partition.

He _does_ twist his hips a bit to give it a better view – they are a team like that.

Raihan pushes in deeper and deeper, nice and slow, waiting for Piers to back up and take a gasp of breath or tell him to cool it, but he just takes him without complaint, deeper and deeper until Raihan’s hips are pressed up to the partition of the toilet stalls, both hands curled over the top edge, stars exploding behind his closed eyelids as Piers’ wet throat contracts around him with little glottal clicks.

 _That’s it… that’s the life,_ he thinks blearily as he finally pulls back and can feel the pop of slipping out of Piers’ throat right down to his pinky toes. _Just standing in a random Cafè stall, getting my dick sucked by a colleague._

He can hear Piers’ breathing this time; deep and labored but not like he’s not perfectly ready to take it again. Raihan curls a hand around his cock, jerking himself idly as he waits to calm back down for another round. His shaft is plenty wet; Piers has drooled all over it like a seasoned whore.

Rotom is taking pictures of the hole now that it is vacated by him; he can’t see any flashes or hear the soft mechanic whirr of the shutter clicking (Rotom just likes to do that even though it doesn’t have to), but he’s so sure he’d bet his Duraludon on it.

He moves back in after a second or two, and Piers is there in an instant, just pushing his mouth onto his cock like it’s a sweet little cunt.

Raihan changes tactics, then; begins to fuck quick and rough, making the partition of the stall rattle, but even this Piers takes without complaint. There are more sounds like this; wet little smacks whenever Piers loses his sucking little seal around the cock drilling against his tongue, and that only makes it that much better for Raihan.

He likes noises during sex. He likes running his mouth and hearing his partner. He likes it all to be dirty and filthy and fun.

A couple hours later, back in Hammerlocke, he’ll already be jerking it again, staring at pictures of the hole with Piers on the other side; his mouth already open and ready, everything nice and red and swollen. 

He can run his mouth here, at least. Call Piers a perfect little cumbucket. Tell him he wants to see in what kind of shapes he can contort that thin little body of his.

He wants to grab Piers’ hair and ride him like a pony. Fuck. He needs to figure out whether he is still using his Rotomphone for anything other than keeping tabs on his little sister. He needs to get in touch with him somehow.


	8. Doomcio + Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomzio + Hanzo – bottoms fighting for the top’s love – Right what it says on the tin. Hanzo teases the worst out of Lúcio and Akande loves it.

Lúcio is a docile little creature but when Hanzo falls to his knees and opens his mouth wide as if it were a given that the first thing Akande would do is stuff his cock down his throat, he snaps.

He makes a low sound of annoyance, flinging himself down next to the older sub and knocking rudely into his side to make him topple over and instead open his mouth wide, sticking his little pink tongue out as a neat little landing strip for Akande’s dick… and all of that within the span of a few seconds of him stepping foot into the room.

He lifts his brows in interest, seeing the murderous glare Hanzo sends Lúcio when he rightens himself back up, and makes a sharp little motion with his hand to let him know to keep it down.

Hanzo, with ill grace, lets Lúcio’s attack slide, though he does dig his elbow into the younger man’s ribs steadily and harshly until he grunts and throws him an annoyed glare.

Akande’s boys are quite the handful; but he is a big and generous man and more than capable of keeping both of them entertained and busy.

“My dears,” he says, opening his arms placatingly. “You’re both such good boys. You will come to your treat soon enough, yes? You know I always make sure to give you both what you need. In _equal_ measures.”

They have stopped glaring at each other, at least, and are looking up at Akande like he’s hung the sun and the moon. He likes that very much. They’re out for cock, of course, but they’re looking for it here instead of slinking to other daddies to give them the fill they need which speaks to their attachment to him, he thinks.

“Me first,” Hanzo immediately demands with haughty superiority. He braces himself with his hands between his knees, knowing well how his biceps distractingly push his pecs together, then opens his mouth again even though Akande has yet to even unzip his pants.

“Wha? No! You have to wait, I was here first!” Lúcio immediately cries out, big brown eyes on Akande, begging him to come to his aid.

Lúcio is a sweet little thing that usually doesn’t mind sharing whenever Akande brings another playmate, but something about Hanzo’s aloof get-it-all demeanor seems to really rub him the wrong way.

“You have him a lot more often than I,” Hanzo immediately lectures back, annoyed that he even has to fight with Lúcio over the issue, but Lúcio does not look like he’s going to back down soon.

Akande chuckles softly as he comes closer, preventing any more squabbling by placing his big hands on their heads and gently rubbing his palms against their scalps.

“None of that… you will both get what you desire if you play nicely together.” He tugs them closer, and they both easily fall into his lap, pushing their faces up against his crotch and inhaling deeply. There is a moment of growling and dissatisfaction when they realize their cheeks are pressed together as they lightly fight for the best spot, but a reprimanding click of Akande’s tongue has them quiet back down.

Hanzo brings out the worst in his boy, but Akande is kind of thrilled to see this side in Lúcio. He enjoys the competitive jealousness that has started emerging the moment he brought Hanzo in to play with them.

He lets them sniff and rub for a minute or two; just two gorgeous men getting drunk on the scent of his dick. When he steps away, they blearily blink up at him. Lúcio’s mouth is plump and open, lips looking wet, and he can’t help but grasp his chin and gently pop a thumb into his mouth.

Lúcio’s big brown eyes flutter shut, lips sealing around his thumb in a moment, tongue softly dragging against the tip of it. Hanzo huffs, loud enough to make sure he is not overheard, and turns his head away to pout.

They’re quite the rascals. Akande shakes his head and drags his now wet thumb from Lúcio’s sweet suckling. He immediately has the attention of both boys on him, their focus laser sharp as he begins to unbutton his shirt. He pretends to ignore them while he undresses in unhurried motions. He throws his shirt at them just to hear them tussle over who gets to sniff at the cologne clinging to the fabric. As so often, they come to an uneasy truce, pretending like neither exists as they get what they want anyway.

Kittens, the both of them.

Akande had always fancied himself a dog person but he can make exceptions. When he’s naked, the soft sound of snuffling behind him ceases. He glances at them through the reflection in one of the shiny table legs and can see the both of them staring at his ass, greedy and open. Desiring him.

He has yet to let one of them fuck him. They are too cute squirming on his cock and getting loopy from being stretched so wide.

He sits down on his expensive couch and spreads his arms along the backrest with a bone deep sigh. He spreads his legs, letting them watch their fill; staring at him like he is a god. His cock is lying in the crease of his thigh, nestled there nice and snug. He’s only half-hard but he’s sure that will change soon.

“Come here,” he instructs, and as he hasn’t specified who, both of them come scrambling, knocking shoulders and trying to make the other fall so they can hog the space between the wide spread of his thighs.

He lets them both crawl as close as they can get, then slowly curls a few fingers around the base of his cock to lift it up for them. Neither of them dares to touch him without express permission.

He smirks slowly as he watches their eyes follow his every movement. He curls his palm around his shaft and gives himself a slow tug, feeling it warm up and become more heavy as it fills with blood.

He lets them stew in it for long enough that Hanzo’s eyebrows start to lower into an angry frown before he finally takes his hand away and lets them at it.

They jump at the opportunity like ravenous dogs; one on each side of his shaft, suckling and lapping at it nicely to get it as wet as possible. Interestingly enough, they don’t care for the moment that their noses are bumping or their tongues are touching as they work eagerly.

Akande smiles slowly, petting both their heads. They look so pretty worshiping his dick. Lúcio dips down to lick at his balls, and Hanzo opens up wide to pop the swollen tip into his greedy little mouth like he’s been angling for the whole time.

They have a truce for but a moment. Enough time for Akande to start wondering what to do with them when they realize their little cunts are still woefully empty.

But he’s sure he’ll manage. He has enough love to give.


	9. Sigma/Harold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold/Sigma – insecure about his size Siebren; slight big dick humiliation; dick slapping – Harold hadn’t been expecting to be into hurting Siebren.

Harold swings one leg over Siebren’s belly and sits down on it. Siebren peeks at him through his fingers before hiding himself away again with a soft groan, his ears fire red.

Seeing his fellow scientist like this… seeing their immediate size differences… it’s something Siebren can barely handle. His cock is big and fat and heavy and he crosses his legs with a whine, trying to trap it between his thighs and hide it away. He can’t believe how fast he’s gotten so hard. Harold is just on a nice half-mast, which seems a lot more… sensible. They haven’t really done anything yet.

Siebren is just… he’s just too excitable. This is horrible. Why must he be this way? He will surely hurt Harold with just how… how big he is. And how he will lose control over his body. He already knows it.

Harold is watching him quietly, his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose. He is a very kind man – exemplified on the fact that he even wants to play with Siebren even after seeing the size of his cock – but there’s something weirdly… stern about his expression now whenever Siebren peeks at him through his fingers.

Harold sits on his belly without any compunction. He does not make himself lighter for Siebren’s sake, assuming correctly that Siebren would be sturdy enough to take his weight. His balls are a warm little spot just above Siebren’s belly button.

“Look at me,” Harold demands. It takes Siebren a few shuddering breaths until he can follow the command, taking his long fingered hands away from his face to stare up at Harold absolutely miserably.

“What’s going on in your head?” Harold asks, voice a bit gentler. He reaches behind him, scratching fingers through Siebren’s rapidly greying pubes, then farther down. Siebren can see the twitch of his face when he realizes that Siebren has been clenching his cock between his thighs. “Ah. I see.”

“I am… terribly sorry,” Siebren says quickly. He can feel himself flush, and there is no way he can stop that, either. He feels like a total mess and they haven’t even begun yet.

He throws an arm over his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip. He can barely make himself look at Harold. He’s not… he’s just not used to having something small and cute on him, even though Harold being as hairy as he is would probably not be considered cute by many.

.

Harold hums thoughtfully. He twists his body to glance behind him and see the way Siebren has his long legs clenched, hiding his raging erection between his slim thighs. Goodness, he’s cute.

Harold moves, off slowly, even though he quite liked his place on Siebren’s belly; but he needs room to play.

He grasps one of Siebren’s thighs, smiling slightly when he hears the _squeak_ he makes, though he does not dare to protest the gently tug for even a second. He is an unusually tall, broad shouldered man, but he lets himself manipulate as easy as they come.

His cock springs up immediately, just as brick red as the rest of the man. It can’t quite stand up fully but it sure is trying its best. Cute.

Harold reaches out, slowly curling his palm around the shaft, listening to Siebren pull air in sharply, heels digging into the mattress. They can’t be too loud, of course; the rooms on the space station are not necessarily built sound proof… though Harold would kind of enjoy letting others hear how he can make Dr. de Kuiper sing for him.

“Hmm… big… it was to be expected, I suppose. You are a very tall man,” he says softly, keeping his voice firm. Harold isn’t too assertive himself usually, but he feels like if he doesn’t take the reigns now, Siebren will just get himself spooked and stop the whole thing.

Siebren all but whispers: “I am sorry…”

His cock is hot and heavy in Harold’s palm. He can already imagine how it would feel inside him… making his intestines move and rearrange themselves just to accommodate the length that comes with a man of Siebren’s size. He shudders, skin prickling in excitement.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks softly, dragging his hand down to see how Siebren’s glans pops out of his foreskin; wet and shiny and delicious looking. “I have never heard a man apologize for having a penis that is too large.”

It is meant as a joke – a rather flat one; Harold is not really good at them – but Siebren _squeaks_ again and keeps hiding his face, all while his cock flexes.

“I know it is- I mean… I am aware of my… grotesque size.”

Oh.

That’s not quite the word Harold would use, but he can run with it. Siebren’s glans has gotten wetter, liquid dribbling from the slit and getting caught in his bunched foreskin.

Harold hums, slowly swiping his thumb across the tip to gather the wetness on the pad of it, then lets go of Siebren to pop it into his mouth and taste his pre. Siebren makes a sound like he’s about to die, his pale eyes fixed on Harold, peeking out from underneath his arm.

“You shouldn’t apologize so much,” Harold tells him finally. He has his free hand curled around his own cock, just holding on and squeezing it slowly; feeling how it becomes heavier against his fingers.

“I know, I’m just… I am aware that dealing with it can be- I mean…” he clears his throat and slowly lifts his knees a little. “You are welcome to…”

Harold smiles at him. Goodness, Siebren is cute. He reaches for his cock once more, giving it a few little love taps with his fingers just to make it bounce. Siebren’s arm slowly slides away, the flush in his face becoming alarming as he begins to pant.

Oh… he seems to like that.

“It is noble of you to worry so much. You _are_ quite big. I wouldn’t say grotesquely so, but… I am sure not many want to deal with it.” He pushes up his glasses, realizing he is trembling himself. Harold has never really been… mean to someone he’s about to be intimate with, but Siebren reacts beautifully. He whines and squirms but his cock flexes, and when Harold reaches back for it and starts to slightly make it bounce again on his fingers, getting progressively harder, Siebren begins to moan like… like… 

Harold starts to squirm himself.

“You need to be quiet,” he tells him. “Or do you like getting your… your big… _cock_ slapped so much? It is probably the only time it is being touched by someone else, I suppose.”

Harold holds his breath, waiting nervously for Siebren’s reaction. Siebren doesn’t seem to mind Harold’s mean words, though – he just nods dutifully. He has stopped hiding himself away and is staring down his long body towards his bouncing cock.

Harold takes the plunge and doesn’t just tap it anymore: he slaps it; hard enough to make it nearly touch Siebren’s belly before dipping down heavily once more, bouncing ludicrously.

Siebren’s face is slack, body trembling. He looks like he’s almost climaxed from getting his big cock slapped, and that hits him unexpectedly hard in the guts.

Harold is not a violent man by any means, but hurting Siebren who always is so very gentle and shy, and realizing that he _likes_ it… oh. Oh.

That is good.


	10. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – gaping, squelching, creampie, in love, blind Jack – Jack is a grumpy old man that doesn’t like to bottom. Gabriel still tricked him into it.

Jack grunts when Gabriel rearranges him like a doll, rolling him onto his side so he can lift one of his legs up to drape over his shoulder and slide back into his now softly squelching hole.

He begins to struggle, uncoordinated and loopy, now that he’s off of his bound arms, but it’s only a few moments before he stops again, groaning weak and fucked out.

“Not used to this, are you, Jackie?” Gabriel croons. He slides in deep and slow, feeling like something inside him is slotting into place just as much as his cock glides without a hitch into Jack’s sloppy hole. “You’re not used to being ridden like a pony, but you take to it beautifully.”

Jack bares his teeth at him, squinting his milky eyes at nothing in particular. The old man is sweaty and exhausted. It is absolutely beautiful.

“Don’t pout,” Gabriel chides gently, hand gliding from Jack’s knee to his thigh pressed against Gabriel’s chest, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always been such a bad loser, Jackie.”

“You s-simply…” he pauses, his flush slowly starting to creep from his chest up his neck. Aw isn’t he cute… getting all flustered from being fucked sloppy on Gabriel’s cock. “You simply did not play fair,” he grunts. “I should’ve known that from the get-go.”

“In love and war, Jack,” Gabriel croons back, hand sliding farther down until it is nearly in the crease of Jack’s leg. Teasing with touching his big fat cock but not actually pulling through with it.

Jack reacts either way. He’s become so very sensitive since gradually losing his eyesight; his body trembling and needy at the merest touch; beautifully responding to anything Gabriel does to him even while complaining the whole damn way.

Gabriel likes the new position. He can tell Jack has never been fucked like this before, his milky eyes are twitching, and his arms keep trying to flex and pull out of the tight wrap of the bindings.

“Are you trying to imagine what we look like?” Gabriel asks faux gentle. “...What _you_ look like?”

Jack clenches his eyes shut, trembling, hole _squelching_ as Gabriel ruts in sharper than the other times, forcing the loads he’s put into him earlier to bubble past his cock.

“You look so good taking cock, Jackieboy,” he rasps like it’s an intimate little secret; a sweet whisper between lovers. It is, really, though he knows Jack will hate hearing it. True to form, Jack tries baring his teeth again, body convulsing as if trying to pull himself together and drag himself somehow away from it all, but all he manages is to clench down harder on Gabriel’s cock and give him a nice silky sleeve to fuck into for a few seconds before everything goes slack again and all that remains is heat and wetness and Gabriel’s overwhelming affection for this grump.

Jack makes a weird little sound that probably was supposed to be a growl once. He seems overwhelmed by the whole experience – he’s never had been one that’s been big on bottoming, and becoming a grumpy old man must have cemented his believe that he’d never again be made to spread his legs and offer up that sweet little hole of his.

“Don’t be like that,” Gabriel murmurs gently. He’s having the time of his goddamn life, and he doesn’t know how to drag it out even longer. He’s been dicking Jack for hours now, and he knows that the next time will be the last that he’ll be able to cream him. He doesn’t want it to be, though. He wants to just keep going; have Jack on his dick and see him reluctantly start to love cock. The feeling of something warm and big filling his belly. Stretching his rim.

His hole, whenever Gabriel twists a bit to peek, is a swollen, red mess; a plump mouth sucking at his cock just as badly as Jack would have.

Jack is pretty bad at anything that doesn’t involve him grunt fucking his dick into Gabriel’s warm holes, but he doesn’t mind it one bit usually. He likes the rough dicking; the sight of bliss on Jack’s face whenever Gabriel lets him mount up. The sounds he makes when he digs in deep and starts coming like a freight train.

But being on the other end is also fun. A _lot_ of fun, to be exact. Gabriel had almost forgotten how good it is to fuck someone the way he does Jack now; just putting him through his paces and making him tremble like a sweet little thing on his dick when he stops to rearrange the leg he’s got thrown over his shoulder.

“Can you turn on your front?” he asks him eventually, slowly petting Jack’s thigh. Jack’s face twists. He flushes and twists it away, trying to hide from Gabriel’s inquisitive stare.

“What… you want to fuck me like a slut?” he eventually manages to get out. He tries to sound hard; maybe even angry, but to Gabriel it just sounds unsure and shy. He can see Jack’s fingers flexing nervously behind his back, hands curling into fists and then unclenching again.

“You say it like I haven’t been fucking you like a slut for the past couple hours,” Gabriel croons back, and starts to unceremoniously rearrange Jack yet again.

Having Jack with his ass up in the air is definitely nothing he’s had too often before but damn… it’s really nice. He spreads his meager cheeks with both hands, thumbs framing his hole. It’s gaping all on its own; a wet, swollen mouth looking hungry for Gabriel’s cock even as Jack tries to hide away and pretend he’s hating all of it.

Gabriel slips back in, but only to assert his dominance. He lets the plump crown of his cock pop in and out, watching Jack’s shoulders twitch every time and hear his breath hitch. In the end, though, he just keeps it pressed against the sloppy gape, barely pushing inside while he jerks himself off, pumping his load in and on Jack’s crimson red hole.

Just… making a mess out of him.

Jack’s become so quiet and loopy, his milky eyes half-open, just as his mouth, thin lips wet and kissable looking (which is probably just a Gabriel thing).

“You look like a whore,” Gabriel tells him gently as he slowly unchains Jack’s arms and gently helps him to move them up next to his head. He’s kitten weak. Jack only makes a soft sound of affirmation, and Gabriel grins slowly, leaning down and pressing a kiss against his temple.

“You want to come?” he mutters, surprised when Jack dreamily shakes his head.

He’d never thought he’d get so into bottoming. He’s being… surprisingly cute. If only it wouldn’t take a couple hours of dedicated dicking to get him nice and tranquil.

Stubborn old man...


	11. Angelo/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelo/Hanzo – micro dick humiliation; concept Mercy (Angelo) – Angelo has a dark side.
> 
> Prequel: B23F6

“I assume you have been presented with averagely sized peni before,” Angelo murmurs politely as he roots around in the cupboard of his desk. Hanzo stands in front of it in nothing but his fundoshi, looking flushed and reluctantly eager.

When no answer comes forth – what a surprise – Angelo looks up and lifts his brows at him. Hanzo glances away to the side, his big hands curled into fists half in front of him as if trying to shield how empty the pouch of his fundoshi is.

“I don’t make it a habit to… inspect other people,” he says eventually after ruminating about how to phrase it.

Angelo’s mouth twitches and he looks back down.

“Still. Seeing as I estimate your growth having stopped… _early_ -” Hanzo grits his teeth and his ears are flaming with humiliation, “-you must be aware of your shortcomings.”

Here, Angelo looks at him, having finally found what he’s been searching for. Hanzo just nods stilted, still not looking at him.

“Say it,” Angelo prompts him gently, disinfecting and cleaning the soft rubber dildo he’s gotten out. “I think it would do wonders to your ego to admit it out loud.”

Hanzo swallows, then: “My penis is… small.”

Angelo huffs a derisive laugh. He lifts the toy in his hand and lets it wag in the air like the tail of a dog.

“Remember… _this_ is average sized.”

Hanzo’s flush quickly and impressively starts to take over his face. When he is quiet, seemingly at a loss for words, Angelo smiles at him gently and nods towards his fundoshi.

“Take it off.”

Hanzo obeys. He’s become a lot more tame after that first time of being bend over and shown his place. His hands are visibly shaking, which excites Angelo more than seeing his ridiculous little bump of a dick. Hanzo’s hands _never_ shake. Except, it seems, when he is stupidly excited about getting humiliated by his physician.

Angelo takes a good look at the little thing. Hanzo himself is a stocky man, thick with muscle, and the size of his penis makes that only more apparent.

“Are you erect?” he asks with a little smile.

Hanzo’s breath audibly hitches. He looks almost a bit faint, but he stands his ground and slowly nods.

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

Angelo keeps on smiling, seeing how the small cock jerks. He slowly makes his way over to his patient. He is a good head taller than Hanzo, so when he stands behind him, he can curl over him and look down his torso to have the same view as him.

He brings the fake cock to the front and places the flat tip against Hanzo’s hipbone to show off the massive difference between them.

“Do you see the difference?”

Hanzo is breathing heavily. His tiny cock has not managed to push out of the silky little foreskin, but there is wetness bubbling visibly at the tip.

“Y-Yes.”

“So…. what would you say how big your cock is?”

It is exciting to talk like this to a patient. Angelo never really gets to just… let loose and get his frustrations out, but Hanzo is a thankful and eager victim.

“It’s… tiny… I have a tiny cock,” Hanzo rasps, his fists shaking slightly. Angelo hums and nods, hips angled away so Hanzo wouldn’t feel the bulge of his own cock and just how excited all of this makes him. He likes the added humiliation of Hanzo thinking that it doesn’t affect his doctor as much as it actually does.

“Take yourself in hand.”

Hanzo does, easily swallowing his little cocklet in his palm. Angelo clicks his tongue in reprimand.

“Ridiculous. Do it like you do when you masturbate. If you please.” He tags the last on as an afterthought. It becomes more and more difficult to keep up the veneer of the gentle physician.

Their teammates always joke about Angelo being headstrong and quite scary when they don’t follow his well-meant advise, but they have never seen him like this. He doesn’t plan on letting anybody other than Hanzo know.

Hanzo is groaning softly in his chest, slowly changing up his grip until he is pinching the fat little stub of his shaft between forefinger and thumb. Without needing to be prompted, he begins to jerk himself off, his wrist doing a minimal little twist each time.

He pulls back the foreskin, showing off the shiny glans that Angelo is reasonably sure has never even kissed a hole. There’s no way it would reach far enough.

He hums into Hanzo’s ear, gently wiggling the toy to have it bounce big and awkward next to the tiny cocklet. He has not been lying: it is really a very averagely sized toy, but next to Hanzo’s shameful little clit of a cock, it looks absolutely massive.

Angelo doesn’t have to prompt Hanzo to put on a bit of a show. He seems more than eager to show off just how little he is able to move his fingers to jerk himself off, or how ridiculously small his ballsack is beneath. He rolls his testicles like marbles on his fingers, all while gurgling like he’s being given the best head of his life.

It’s mesmerizing to watch him get off so hard on something so… vestigial.

“Now, then,” Angelo suddenly says, voice scratchy and startling the both of them out of the trance they had fallen into.

He pulls away and turns towards the simple wooden chair in the room. He can hear Hanzo whimpering behind him as he obediently lets go of his clitdick, despite him clearly being close to orgasm.

Angelo puts the fake cock on the chair, making sure the suction cup is working properly, then smears it generously in lube.

He does not need to bully Hanzo – or even prompt him – into what he is doing next on his very own accord:

Trying to sit himself down on the thing despite the soft silicone making it slip and slide off and away from his tight, barely used hole.

Angelo stands to the side, watching in absolute fascination as Hanzo reaches down to steady the cock and really tries to rape himself on it.

“Slow and steady,” he advises eventually. Hanzo whines for it like a dog. He is so greedy for it; getting his hole wrenched open on a nice fat cock finally. Angelo must have fixed him up by fingering him the last time.

It must not have been enough for him.

“Keep stimulating yourself,” he orders next. There’s not even any pretense of this being a medical examination anymore. He feels just horny and mean and wildly liberated by Hanzo’s willingness to follow along and get ridiculed.

Hanzo gurgles a little whine and reaches between his thighs. He pinches his dick between his fingers again, but Angelo is there, bracing himself on the backrest of the chair and leaning down to whisper into his ear: “No… rub it like the clitoris it is.”

He can’t help his wet, obvious panting right into Hanzo’s ear. He’s sure Mr. Shimada doesn’t even notice it; he’s too preoccupied coming with his hole stretched on the tip of the fake cock and his fingers obediently rubbing his glans in tight little circles.

Angelo pulls back, and drags his labcoat off the hanger to pull it on and close it with shaking fingers so Hanzo won’t see his slowly spreading wet spot when he turns around later.


	12. Piers/Goodra + Raihan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers/Goodra + Raihan – belly bulge; mention of Piers’ shoddy self-image; mention of eggy mpreg – Getting fucked by Goodra is an experience that Raihan wants to let Piers feel.
> 
> Sequel: B32F12

“B-Bloody hell,” Piers wheezes. He’s trying to stem against the substantial weight of Goodra, but for Raihan it looks like his thin limbs are going to snap like twigs any second now. He licks his lips, then presses his tongue against the tip of one sharp canine before he crouches down at Piers’ head prompted by another whining wheeze.

“Hey, hey, hey. Everything’s just fine, right? Goodra loves you.”

Goodra makes a soft gurgling trill and shifts just a bit to not bury Piers as much beneath its bulk. It’s tail is swishing like a dog’s, sending little drips of slime all over the floor. Piers inhales deeply and stares at the floor beneath his hands a few moments longer before he lifts his heavy lidded eyes to stare at Raihan’s excited face.

He slowly nods. He tries to look brave, but Raihan can see how nervous and skittish the whole experience makes him. Piers might be a whore, but he’s more used to being buried beneath the heavy bulk of a fat business man instead of Goodra’s soft slimy embrace.

Raihan is crouching down lower, almost bringing his face on a level with Piers’ to stare searchingly into his pale eyes while Goodra is continuously shifting behind him, looking sweet and docile and not at all like it is shoving more and more of its squishy tentacle cock into Piers.

“You good?” Raihan murmurs. He reaches out and takes one of the thick strands of hair that has managed to escape Piers’ hairtie, tugging it out of the way of the mess Goodra is making.

Piers stares at him a bit surprised. Shellshocked, maybe. Raihan ignores it – he’s used to Piers constantly being startled by acts of kindness towards him. The best way to deal with it is not to make a _thing_ out of it, he’s found out early on.

Raihan glances up. Goodra is staring at the both of them, big blue eyes slowly blinking. Its short arms are just long enough to grasp Piers’ slim, bony hips and hold on while it waits like a good boy for Raihan’s permission.

Which it gets via a barely-there nod and the feral flash of a canine.

Piers gurgles when the Pokémon starts moving, the sound perfectly stepping in line with the wet squelching sounds of Goodra’s body.

“Oh… oh sh-shite,” Piers gasps, fingers trying to dig into the hardwood floor of Raihan’s apartment. His heavy lidded eyes open wide, face looking absolutely shocked at the sensation of Goodra’s slimy cock sliding into him and filling him out in the gentlest way possible.

Raihan is grinning at him, now squatting in a lazy spread of his legs, unashamedly showing off the fat bulge in the jockstrap he’s still wearing.

“Oh fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks with a slight crack in his voice. Piers’ slim back is glistening from Goodra’s slime, every knob of his spine visible right there. “It’s warm, isn’t it?! Like getting fucked by a fleshlight or somethin’?”

Piers doesn’t flush, but he does look away, his meager biceps trembling until he finally lets himself go down on his forearms, head hanging low. Shielding his face from Raihan’s inquisitive stare and bracing himself for Goodra slowly but surely starting up an absolutely hypnotizing rhythm.

The whole gelatinous body of the Pokémon is moving, its hips and belly continuously swallowing Piers’ lower body up whenever it pushes in deep again, filling the slim man with cock and fluid.

It’s like watching a lava lamp fuck, and Raihan knows from experience that it feels like it, too; Goodra warm and silky, shoving as much slick into one’s belly as possible. After all, there is no clear distinction between Goodra’s dick and Goodra’s body. It just becomes enthusiastic and excited and wants to _fuck, fuck, fuck_.

And now Piers can experience it, too.

He’s whining continuously the first few minutes, sounding a bit scared and unsure, but once Goodra really lays into him, his body starts to loosen up considerably. Before long, Piers’ cheek is pressed against the floor, his eyes glassy and mouth open and groaning as Goodra fucks him like a machine.

There’s a continuous big smile on its face, large teal eyes on the back of Piers’ head where his thick hair is curled up like a crown. Under Raihan’s watchful eye, the Pokémon seems to collapse in on itself just so it can reach down far enough to rub its face between the sharp points of Piers’ shoulder blades and leave a sheen of thick goo behind.

It’s the perfect combination, really; Goodra doesn’t mind all those bones and sharp points that Piers has. It does, in fact, not even feel them when they dig into its body. All it feels is how receptive Piers is, body always ready and willing to take some cocks.

Raihan slowly stretches himself out on the floor, one hand idly cupping and squeezing his cock through his jockstrap, thighs moving so he can feel air touching his hole just for the added kick.

The sight from down below has his breath catch in his throat. Piers’ usually concave belly is _bulging_ outward, big and round, filled with Goodra’s slime and making him look painfully pregnant.

“Shite…” Raihan is whispering, gaze fixed on the sight of Piers’ little belly. The bloke is tall, but so stick thin that even seeing this football sized bulge in his belly is... shocking.

“Damn you take it well,” Raihan whispers. “Looks like he put an egg in you, Piers! Holy… god damn…”

Piers whimpers like a little dog. He is hiding his face against his meager upper arm, the hair piled on top of his head trembling precariously as he shakes his head in denial. Raihan ignores his distress in favor of reaching out and carefully cupping his belly.

There’s just no way he won’t touch that bulge.

It is hot to the touch; warmed from the inside by Goodra’s own body temperature. The feeling is alien and stupidly exciting. He imagines squeezing around Piers’ middle and making him just squirt the mess out. The thought is nasty… and stupidly hot.

Against the back of his hand he feels Piers’ cock, slender and as brick red as the rest of his body is pale. It’s tip, not as bulbous as for example Raihan’s own, is glistening wet, a string of pre slowly dripping to the ground.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks again, brain feeling fried. He’s just running his mouth without paying attention to anything he’s saying (which is… the usual state of things, really).

Goodra keeps moving, its soft trills becoming more… throaty. Amorous. Its hips do a vague fucking motion that does not seem to be in tune with the motions in Piers’ belly that Raihan can see up close. His bulging stomach moves like a wriggling Goomy is already in there.

Raihan fucks against the palm of his hand, the other pressed across his mouth until he can’t help but bite the edge of it because he just needs something to dig his canines into while Piers gets pumped to the absolute max with Goodra’s slime.

What if Goodra really put an egg into him?


	13. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – crying during sex; gentle, loving sex; virgin Jason – Bruce just gets very emotional over Jason, and Jason gets emotional over his first dicking.

Bruce never has had an interest in pets; not because he doesn’t like them but because his lifestyle is one so spectacularly unsuited to them that he’d rather not put himself through the heartache.

Still, he’s been the instigator of a few charities and fundraisers for finding homes for the poor critters that he can’t help but be reminded of the videos shown on these occasions as he watches Jason carefully make his way first inside the mansion and then through it.

He looks… coiled, for lack of a better word. He’s grown tall and broad in the shoulders from the delinquent kid Bruce had plucked off the streets, but right now he is trying to make himself as small as possible it seems.

Like a stray dog that’s known nothing but the streets and the confines of a kennel, he is looking unsure about the whole situation. Bruce can’t fault him there. Having Jason in his home once again after all these years of thinking him dead is a surreal experience.

He quietly stands off to the side, trying to pretend like he’s as calm as they come, and like his hands aren’t trembling. He’s no stranger to various meditation techniques that would help him to get his equilibrium back, but he finds that holding himself back… holding his _emotions_ back with Jason have not been his best decisions in the past.

Jason is deceptively sensitive, even if he doesn’t like admitting it himself.

Said sensitive young man turns around now and guardedly watches Bruce. Their truce still feels surreal, and from Jason’s expression, eyes half-hidden beneath the wild fringe of his dark hair, he seems to think the exact same.

Bruce slowly takes a step closer, and Jason lifts his head, nostrils flaring. He looks like a spooked horse, but does not run. Bruce _does_ notice how his fingers twitch to what he can only assume is a knife hidden against his hip.

He lifts his hands in what he hopes is a calming gesture, showing him his naked, empty fingers. All his hard training seems to just fly out the window whenever he deals with Jason; like he’s never interacted with a single human being in his life.

“There… alright?” Jason slowly relaxes again. He nods, but when Bruce pulls him into a hug he is stiff as a board at first.

It takes a while for him to start relaxing, and by then Bruce has become alert to how just plain _nervous_ Jason is, arms coming around Bruce’s hips and hands clawed into his clothes.

“Didn’t know you were so sappy, B,” Jason mutters barely intelligible against his shoulder. Bruce clenches his eyes tightly closed so he won’t show him just _how_ sappy this whole experience makes him.

“Come on.” He grasps Jason’s hand and starts leading him through the mansion. Every now and then, Jason pauses in his steps, staring at nothing in particular that must have unearthed one memory or the other. He looks weirded out by the whole experience. Bruce wonders what it must feel like to suddenly have memories come swimming back that he hasn’t had in a long while.

Since he died, in fact.

He refuses to think about it in depth. He’s lived most of his life in the past, and he knows how destructive it can be to dwell on it for too long.

Jason, surprisingly enough, lets himself be guided like a pup. His shoulders are hunched and he looks like a thug but his hand is holding on to Bruce’s like a lost child would.

“What’re we goin’ to do, B?” he asks as Bruce leads him into his spacious bedroom. Bruce stands for a moment with his back to him, just gathering his courage, then turns and cups his palm against Jason’s jaw. There’s a beard stubble there that hadn’t been there the last time he gently scruffed his knuckles against Jason’s cheeks many years ago.

He’s become a troubled young man; his eyes look exhausted and haunted, and there’s barely any surprise in them when Bruce leans in to kiss him slow and chaste.

Jason does not reciprocate, per se, but he also does not pull back. He looks confused and a bit wary when Bruce pulls back again.

“Is this okay?” Bruce murmurs. He lets go of Jason’s face and instead curls his fingers around the hem of his shirt, slightly slipping beneath to pet his belly. Jason pulls in a sharp breath, his pale cheeks noticeably getting more color. He slowly nods, but looks overwhelmed enough that Bruce keeps it slow.

Just like with the kiss, there is not much reciprocation when he begins to undress Jason – but just as much there is no sign that he doesn’t want this to happen.

Bruce pushes and pulls and before long they’re on top of his silk sheets, and Jason makes a soft whimper like sound at how cold they feel against his skin. There are so many scars littering his body, but Bruce is focused on his nipples, small and tight from goosebumps.

He leans in and presses a suckling kiss onto one. Jason wheezes, his arms coming around Bruce’s head like he wants to suffocate him. The longer he is in Bruce’s house, the softer he seems to become; quiet and needy, feet restlessly dragging against the silk sheets, trying to find an outlet for the energy coursing through his body just from getting his nipples played with.

Bruce hadn’t planned on stretching Jason out on his bed when he’s asked him to come home with him. The thought of Jason squirrelling himself away into whatever hovel he is using for a base at the moment had simply been impossible to bear. Especially after them finally making up. Still, it feels… right having him here, trembling softly beneath him, despite not having planned on leading him into his bedroom.

Jason is staring at him mutely, one hand fisted hard enough in Bruce’s hair to ache. He lies there like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his body. When Bruce gently palms his balls and pushes a finger between his cheeks to tease his hole, Jason’s whole body lights up with a flush, his eyes wide and mouth soft in an ‘o’ of surprise.

“Want to stop?” Bruce asks. Jason blinks like he’s down deep. He almost looks like he’s disassociating lying on Bruce’s huge bed and getting his silky little hole tickled by a finger.

Bruce frowns and starts to pull back, but Jason’s hands fly down and curl around his wrist to keep him where he is.

“Keep… going,” he murmurs, and slowly Bruce cups his balls again; gives them a gentle (loving) squeeze.

“You sure? You seemed a bit out of there.” He watches the flinch and flush of Jason’s face intently, lifting one brow when the young man glances down at him, partly because he knows it drives Jason mad when he does it.

Jason’s mouth presses into a thin line and he turns his head away to stare out of the huge windows in Bruce’s bedroom.

Bruce hums thoughtfully. He leans down again, begins to slowly kiss down Jason’s torso and gets his finger back to that sweet little hole.

He has to nudge Jason’s legs a bit apart to fit between them, but when Jason gets the idea, he haltingly spreads them on his own, pulling his knees up. He is breathing with an open mouth, his eyes looking glazed right to the moment that he throws an arm across them.

When Bruce gives the wet crown of his cock a kiss he _whines_.

He reacts beautifully to whatever Bruce is doing to him. Sensitive as a virgin, he-

Bruce pauses with his mouth popped just over the fat tip of Jason’s cock, feeling and tasting the heat of the weeping glans against his tongue. The knuckle of one finger, formerly insistently pressed against Jason’s hole, is slowly pulling away while Jason keeps squirming restlessly, and making the sweetest little sounds.

He pops off with a slurp and Jason chokes on his own tongue, his cock flexing and wagging like a dog’s tail in front of Bruce’s flushed face.

“...Hey…” he murmurs awkwardly. He’s not sure how he should ask it without Jason exploding like a firecracker. He absentmindedly pets the thickly muscled thighs around his shoulders. “You have never done this before, have you?”

Jason stills, chest still heaving. He does not answer, but it is answer enough in and off itself.

Bruce is naturally surprised about the answer, but what surprises him even more is his reaction to it: his throat suddenly feeling so tight and his eyes so wet. His chest aches and he doesn’t answer, not because he wants to spare Jason the indignity but because he feels like he is going to bawl if he makes any sound whatsoever.

He is careful with him. He’s been careful before, but even more so now. Jason is wrenching a pillow down to press it over his face and muffle his sobs by the time Bruce is stretching him on three fingers.

He categorically refuses to show his face when Bruce is above him and starting to push into his silky hot heat; that sweet little virgin space that no other cock has ever breached.

Bruce would have loved to see his face; how it first goes tight and then slack with pleasure. How his glassy eyes become all teary. How he plain… enjoys what Bruce is doing to him.

Bruce has to sniffle. He tries to hide it and wipe his eyes against his bicep, but he is bracing himself and trying to focus simultaneously on fucking Jason as gently as possible, and all in all he is just failing all around.

(Which is… nothing new concerning his history with Jason.)

When Jason hears the sniffle, he miraculously wrenches the pillow away and looks up at him. His eyes are misty and his face flushed brick red, and the look of disbelief comical.

“Are you fucking shitting me, B?” he croaks. His cock is lying big and fat in the crease of his thigh, flushed an even darker shade than the rest of his body.

Bruce shakes his head, embarrassment making him want to take Jason’s pillow and press it against his own face until he just calms himself and breathes deeply through. He blinks his eyes open, hips rolling into Jason, and his first tear rolls down his cheek as he watches how Jason’s face crumbles despite him trying to keep his act of being enraged up.

It is ridiculous; two grown men whimpering and shaking through their fuck; one a virgin and one crying harder and harder.

Jason makes a disgusted little sound that is completely destroyed by the whine shivering out of his throat, and he curls his arms around Bruce’s broad shoulders to pull him down and squish their pecs together.

Bruce presses his face into the crook of Jason’s neck, his hips keeping up their slow, sensual pump even despite him completely losing it.

“I’m just so… I’m just so g-glad you’re alive and well and here…” he sobs like a kid, embarrassed and humiliated about his own breakdown.

Jason, just as overwhelmed as him but for completely different reasons, thumps a weak fist against his back.

“Oh my fucking _God_ , B! Are you for real?!”

He sounds like he wants to say a lot more, but is overwhelmed by the feeling of his first cock spreading him open and rearranging his insides in the nicest way possible.

Bruce keeps sobbing and kissing at his throat, goosebumps rising along his spine at the feeling of Jason’s rough stubble scraping against his clean shaven cheek.

So much has happened since he dragged Jason off the street like a homeless mutt, and he would never have imagined it would culminate into him gently fucking him and urging his virgin hole to accept his cock, but here they were.

Jason’s dick was squeezed between them, a white hot line against his skin. Jason is blowing hitching little breaths right against his ear, insides squeezing down on his cock nervously, trembling and coltish, and he only realizes that he’s coming when there is a whining little ‘oh’ intermingled with the soft hitches. Jason’s fingers are digging into his skin, scratching up his shoulders while his cock pumps out wet, sticky cum between them.

Bruce lifts his face; he’s still sniffling but he needs to stare into Jason’s face as he comes on his cock.

Jason whines and turns his head away, trying to hide from the intense stare; but there is no way to hide how flushed and happy he looks for just a moment.

Bruce smiles slightly.


End file.
